The Grocery List
by hyacinthgirl18
Summary: Bella meets Edward while shopping at the grocery store one night. She goes back every night after with a new song and the occasional problem, hoping to stump the hot guy who loves music and... her? M for smut and language, short story AH
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1: Drumming Song_

"_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That starts when you're around  
I swear that you could hear it  
It makes such an all mighty sound"_

I'm singing under my breath as I stalk through the aisles of the grocery store, grabbing what might seem to be random items to anyone bored—or pervy—enough to watch a nineteen year old dance through the store. A bottle of green apple scented shampoo, a twelve-pack of Diet Coke that will last a month and a half, three pears, a box of Mini Wheats, spaghetti noodles, a Hot Wheels car, salmon, garlic… I shove and/or drop it all into my cart, going from the list in my head and allowing myself to grab whatever strikes my fancy. I can't pass up the chocolate chips either—cravings.

"_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That throws me to the ground  
I swear that you should hear it  
It makes such an all mighty sound"_

I smile at the old woman who is trying to get her catnip from the top shelf, but I'm even shorter than she is and I can't jump for goldfish. She seems kind of weirded out by me anyway—just because I'm bouncing to the tune feeding through my headphones, alone in the grocery store at 11:21 at night, she decides I'm a schizophrenic freak with the voice of an emu talking to me.

I'm about to turn out of the catnip aisle when _he _turns the corner, wiping his hands on the bottom of his long black apron. The small red scripted thread spells out 'Edward' on his chest, a name I've pretty much sewed onto my heart to replicate his uniform. He smiles at the old woman, and I just about swoon in the middle of the store as the pearly whites flash even under fluorescent lighting.

He looks at me out of the corner of his too-green eye, and I absently move my gaze to the shampoo in my cart, comparing the colors. No, his eyes are prettier, by far. "I'll be with you in just a moment," he tells me, friendly and helpful; I have to read his lips to understand because my music is so loud, but I know that his voice is unintentionally caressing and stroking my skin like the fingers I've so often imagined at night. I blush at the thought of my activities concerning thoughts of his long fingers.

Edward passes me, saves Granny Evil-Eye, presents her catnip with a flourish, knocks the old woman to the ground dead with a heart attack—I wish—and then turns to face me. I'm still standing where he left me, gazing at him while my body mindlessly moves with the music. True to my song, my mind is incapable of thought, drowning in his proximity.

"_Louder than sirens  
Louder than bells  
Sweeter than heaven  
And hotter than hell"_

"Do you need any help?" he mouths, leaning on the side of my cart now and smiling at me.

My knees knock against each other once before I snap them back into place. Shaking fingers sneak up to my headphones and pull them out. "Sorry, I couldn't quite hear you?" I say, pretending I haven't studied those sculpted lips enough to recognize the words he says even without sound.

He chuckles, and I bite my lip. "What are you listening to?"

"Florence + the Machine," I answer, tucking my hair behind my ear and grinning at him, wondering if he'll recognize it.

"_I ran to a tower where the church bells chime  
I hoped that they would clear my mind  
They left a ringing in my ear  
But that drum's beating loud and clear"_

I stare at him, flabbergasted. If I thought his talking voice was liquid sex, I didn't have high enough praise for his singing. Edward looks at me and his fair cheeks flush a pale pink, seeping up from the stubble on his neck and jaw. "Sorry, I know I don't normally sing for customers, but I love the song."

"Me too," I agree, having a small party with balloons, confetti, and frog guests in my head. We have something in common. "I didn't actually think you'd get it tonight."

"Don't I every night?" he asks, and the smile has transformed into a teasing know-it-all smirk that makes my legs turn to jelly. I grab the cart in support, attempting to be casual about it.

Granny Evil-Eye passes, and true to her name, she glares at me before nodding at him.

"Most nights," I argue, drawing his attention to me again. "You didn't get Amanda Ghost."

"And you didn't get Frightened Rabbit," he reminds me, uncrossing his arms to point an elegant finger at me, accusing and still somehow incredibly hot. I want to dip that finger in chocolate frosting and lavishly clean it off with my tongue.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, we're even, for now."

"What will you stop by for tomorrow evening?" he asks, cocking his head and pushing his unruly hair back out of his face, where it sticks up in a bronze tribute to sex, frozen as if his hand had mousse dispensers in it.

"We'll see," I smirk, glancing over his shoulder to see a manager turn the corner.

"_Louder than sirens  
Louder than bells  
Sweeter than heaven  
And hotter than hell"_

Edward notices and hurriedly corrects his stance. "Do you need anymore help, miss?" His voice has lost the playful tone I memorized over the past month and a half of shopping at night. Now he sounds like he's talking to a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit, polite and respectful.

"No, thank you. Have a good evening," I say in the same kind of voice.

Edward's green eyes seem to sigh, and he offers me an apologetic smile before joining the manager in his stroll through the store.

"_As I move my feet towards your body  
I can hear this beat; it fills my head up  
And gets louder and louder  
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder"_

I blow my bangs angrily out of my face, letting my annoyed expression take up residence on my too-easily-read face now that he's out of reach. I shove the cart down the aisle toward the front of the store and the checkout lines, knowing I won't see him anymore tonight.

One of the Not-Edward's helps me out to the truck, flirting ineptly, and I put my headphones back in to block him out, hoping the Not-Edward will get the hint and realize a floral supply store would be more interested in him.

The truck rumbles to a start, thankfully, and I glance back toward the store just in time to see Edward crossing in front of the automatic glass doors. He waves at me, and I wave back before putting the truck in gear and backing out.

I think I'll need the ingredients for chicken tikka masala tomorrow. And I need to review my more obscure music to make sure I'm ready for his challenge.

"_I run to the river and dive straight in  
I pray that the water will drown out the din  
But as the water fills my mouth  
It couldn't wash the echoes out  
But as the water fills my mouth  
It couldn't wash the echoes out"_

Jasper is rushing around the apartment when I get back, and barely spares me a 'hello, midget' before disappearing into the bathroom with his shaving kit. I roll my eyes and sit down at my computer to open my iTunes library. It takes about five minutes for it to get up and running now, what with filling most of my storage space with 16,534 songs.

My roommate and best friend tumbles out of the bathroom with shaving cream on his shirt collar, looking for all the world like he had just run into a lion hiding under the toilet lid. I lift an eyebrow, glance pointedly at the clock, and say, "What kind of fuckery is this, Jazz Pants?"

"Shut up, freak in green," he orders, diving into the swamp of his room.

I snicker and stand to lean on his doorframe, watching him hop around on one foot as he attempts to pull on a wrinkled black sock. I wonder if I should tell him it's my sock and wont' fit him, but decide not to. "I'm wearing teal, Jasper. What's up with you? You're acting like you're on meth and coke at the same time. You aren't—right?"

"Fuck no—I'm not into that shit anymore, you know that," he says defensively, finally falling to the floor with a crash. I wonder if Emily is in her apartment downstairs and thinks Africa just dropped off some cargo in Jasper's room. "I'm just late, really really fucking late."

I glance at my watch and lift an eyebrow. "It's only 11:37, Jasper. You've got twenty-three minutes to get to work."

"_What?"_ He jumps up and grabs my wrist, turning it so he can read it. "Fuck. Mine's upside down. It said it was 1:20 or some shit like that."

I laugh at him. "Detective Whitlock strikes again, eh?"

"Did you call me Jazz Pants?" he asks, falling onto his mattress for a moment.

"You are wearing them," I point out, motioning at the black trousers in question.

"They're not—Alice said… never mind," he gulps, noticing the evil smirk that twists my mouth up.

"So you've seen Alice tonight?" I inquire, hopping up onto his desk after pushing a pile of papers on the floor.

He glares at me, annoyed, and gets up to gather them out of the mire that's already his floor. Like seventy something papers makes that much difference.

"Yeah," he mutters unwillingly.

I reach down to pat his blond hair and he jerks away, pretending to bite me until I withdraw. "What were you guys doing?"

"We ate all the pretzels and watched your baby videos," he deadpans.

I glare at him and kick his shoulder lightly, smudging his tight white shirt. "No, really, what happened? Did you make a move yet?"

He groans and lets his head thump back into the drawer of the desk. "God, I hate having a girl for a best friend sometimes. Even if you're a tomboy, you've still got the urge to get all the newest gossip as soon as you can."

"I don't gossip!" I squawk indignantly. He glances up at me, and I blush. "Whatever. You should go to work—but don't think you're getting out of spilling the story!"

Jasper gets up, grabs his duffel bag and shoes, and trudges to the door, holding it open for me. I sulk out of the room and silently vow to call Alice and get the details.

"Well, did _you_ make a move?" he asks, bending over to slip on his socks—his own this time.

My face immediately flames. "Uh… what are you talking about?" I ask.

Jasper glares at me as if I'm lying—which I am—and says, "If you're going to pry into my love life, expect the same treatment. I know you should be getting home around 10:15 at the latest, but you always find an excuse to stop at the store and get 'a few things' every night. Every night. That's really suspicious, Bells, don't say you didn't think I wouldn't notice."

"Can you use fewer negatives?"

"If you let go of your double standards," he wagers, and then kisses the top of my head. "Night, Bells. See you tomorrow afternoon in class."

"Night, Jazz," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Have fun teaching all the weirdos to jazz dance in the middle of the night."

"Don't read too much until your eyes get all bloodshot again—you're pretty without all the red lines."

I lock the door behind him and head for the shower, shedding clothes as I walk through the apartment. By the time the water is running, I'm naked and staring at my reflection—brown hair, brown eyes, pink cheeks, fair skin, small waist, small boobs, small hips, big ears… okay, maybe not big ears, but everything else was accurate enough by my account. My tattoo stood out vividly against the skin over my hipbone—two swans, one black and one white, necks entwined. It was supposed to symbolize yin and yang, the balance in the world and how everyone had two pieces to them. I'd gotten them just a year ago.

I stepped into the hot water and sighed as it hit my back. The water made me think of the rain last night, which made me think of a wet Edward, which made my stomach muscles tighten. When I open my eyes this time, he's standing in the shower with me, leaning against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his sculpted chest. He reaches out and pulls me flush against him, long fingers curling around my waist possessively. "Mine," he whispers, breath hot on my neck as his hands move, one up and one down.

"_I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole  
Till there's nothing left inside my soul  
As empty as that beating drum  
But the sound has just begun"_

I shiver as my fingers move through the curls, imagining it's Edward as my other hand moves up to cup my breast. I'm wet with more than just the shower water, and I moan softly as I put pressure on the heel of my hand below, ghosting the fingers above over my heated skin.

Edward's eyes are burning and searing, green and intense as his fingers slip into me, one, two, thumb on my clit. My eyes roll back in my head and I brace my back on the tiles, imagining his perfect body pressing me up against the wall, hot and slick and just so fucking attractive as he strokes me, adding to the fire within. His hand moves from my breast to cup my neck, and I can almost feel his open-mouthed kisses against the skin at the base of my throat.

I moan louder, feeling the spring coiling. "Edward," I gasp, and his fingers curl inside me, softly brushing against my g-spot before his pace increases. Within moments, the spring shoots off like a pen falling apart, and I slide down the wall to sit under the shower spray, panting and shaking as I pull my hand away. My pulse pounds through my body.

"_As I move my feet towards your body  
I can hear this beat; it fills my head up  
And gets louder and louder  
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder"_

Fuck, I can't wait until I'm brave enough to ask him to do that to me for real. I've never really been able to reach a high like the one phantom-Edward gives me every night—I blame it on his fingers. I can't help but focus on them whenever I see him. They're beautiful, long and elegant, perfect for playing an instrument... and me.

"_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That starts when you're around  
I swear that you could hear it  
It makes such an all mighty sound"_

The apple-scented shampoo I bought earlier smells heavenly as I proceed with my shower routine, washing once and rinsing before running conditioner through the ends of my hair. I wash my face and body as the conditioner sets in, then wash everything off at once. Showers are my favorite time of day, other than shopping at the grocery store. There's something about hot water that soothes me and always ends my day on a good note.

I step out of the shower and towel off with a fluffy yellow monstrosity with a hood that Jasper got me for my thirteenth birthday—there's a blue duck on the pocket. Yeah, my favorite towel has a fucking pocket and a hood.

And yes, Jasper's that weird.

It'd actually been the first gift from a friend that I loved the moment I set eyes on it.

In eighth grade, Jasper had been new to the school—we started just four weeks before my birthday, and the small Texan boy was shy and spoke with an accent my peers seemed to love imitating. None of it was meant meanly, but I knew how it felt to be the new kid, and I took pity on him when he started eating alone at lunch and toting books around at breaks. He sat behind me in math, and one day he was really struggling. I could hear him muttering under his breath about the monkey-assed assignment, and found myself smiling as I turned to offer help.

Jasper at the age of thirteen was a sight to behold. Awkward, small, with wild eyes and wilder hair—nothing like his twenty-year-old self, put together and tall and lean with the calmest and neatest demeanor of anyone I knew. But in eighth grade, the boy was hopeless.

"The answer to twenty is x=24," I told him helpfully.

He glared at me. "I know," he muttered, and I stared at him, watching him blush as he wrote in the answer.

"Really, because you don't have any work to back that up," I said.

He looked at his paper, and his eyes unwillingly glanced at mine, full of the work needed. "I did it in my head."

"What's thirteen? I think I got it wrong," I said innocently, holding my paper in front of me so that the back faced him.

"Um… I…" He stammered at me, eyes panicked, and I turned to straddle the back of my chair.

"You don't have to be worried I'll make fun of you," I told him as I spun his paper to face me. "See, this is a kind of tricky problem. You kind of have to look at it differently than all the rest." I wrote slowly to preserve my chance at neatness as I explained how to work the problem.

He took his paper back and stared at it for a moment. "Oh," he finally said, surprise and reluctant gratitude coloring his accent.

"If you need anymore help, don't hesitate to ask," I warned him. "You don't want to get behind in this class."

"Thanks," he murmured as I turned around. I was glad he couldn't see my smile.

The next day, he approached me at my usual lunch table and asked for help. The towel was a thank you gift, and he claimed his mother bought it until he saw how much I liked it—he finally admitted it was his choice then. Things went on from there, and by the end of the year, we were inseparable.

There had been a few rough patches—of course. Junior year of high school, he started hanging out with the kids that enjoyed drugs more than a working brain. I stopped talking to him, hoping to make him kick the habit, but it didn't have any effect until the beginning of senior year when I fell down the stairs and split my head open and he was the only one in the hall to witness it. He was guilt-ridden, and thought that if he hadn't been on the drugs he might have been able to catch me instead of watching my blood puddle on the floor as the school surrounded me and waited anxiously for an ambulance.

I knew he hadn't a chance of saving me, but I let him go on thinking it was the drugs, because he finally started getting his act together. By the end of the year, he was clean, and he hasn't touched any since.

After we graduated, we both moved into Seattle for school, and we've been living together for the past two years or so. Jasper is working at a dance studio teaching jazz dances at night—which is partly where I got his nickname from—and I work in a bookstore around the corner from the apartment from six to ten on most weekdays. After work, I head over to the grocery store a few streets away and stalk the aisles with my iPod for company until I finally run into my Edward.

I blink and wrap my towel around me before leaving the bathroom—steam billows out after me, and I belatedly remember the fan Jasper is always urging me to use. I pull on my panties and a loose t-shirt I stole from Jazz before heading back out into the living room to pick up the clothes I had discarded earlier.

I sit down in front of my computer and press shuffle on iTunes before opening up a document and starting to fill in my outline for my essay on Tess of the d'Urbervilles; I'd gotten the basic points down, but I needed to add details and support for my thesis.

I'm halfway through the outline when the song breaks through my writing trance. I smile and sit back in my chair, closing my eyes and substituting Edward's voice for the British singer's.

"_There's a drumming noise inside my head  
That starts when you're around  
I swear that you could hear it  
It makes such an all mighty sound"_

I wonder what song he'll choose for tomorrow—so far I've gotten everything from Blondie's 'Call Me' to Kings Of Leon's 'Closer,' as well as a few pieces of opera and jazz. Thank God my iTunes library had everything he'd chosen so far but for one song, which I'd promptly added later—Frightened Rabbit's 'The Twist.'

"_Louder than sirens  
Louder than bells  
Sweeter than heaven  
And hotter than hell"_

I breathe in deeply through my nose and can almost smell him as if he's standing in front of me—I swear on my own future grave, he could bring me to my knees just by standing in front of a heater blowing his scent toward me. Spicy and crisp and warm—all man-boy and steamy and Edward, the perfect blend to get my girlie parts tingling in funny ways.

***

The first night I went to the grocery store, I had no idea what I would find there. Alice had just asked me to pick up a box of condoms for her—I'd blushed at the request, but I'd marched into the store with enough determination to rival that of a rhino's. Assuming, of course, that rhinos would plead for Alice to find someone—anyone—else to do this chore for her. But no luck, so I steeled myself and walked through those glass doors to meet my fate.

I was standing in the aisle staring at the wide expanse of safe-sex latex, utterly lost. It wasn't my job to go out and buy condoms, after all—that was for the guys putting their dick in someone to do. How the hell was I supposed to know if Alice preferred ribbed or what size she needed for her fuck-buddy?

Frustrated, I blew my bangs out of my face and wrinkled my nose, planting my hands on my hips and softly distracting myself by singing something by Phoenix. I didn't hear him the first time he said my name, or the second. But I definitely felt his hand brushing my wrist tentatively.

"_Louder than sirens  
Louder than bells  
Sweeter than heaven  
And hotter than hell"_

I shrieked and promptly dropped my iPod as I jumped back, knocking into the shelf and knocking several boxes to the floor.

When I looked for the source of my disruption, the man-boy in front of me was ducking to pick up my iTouch. He glanced up, still kneeling on the ground, and I gasped aloud—he was gorgeous and perfect and I immediately based all the requirements for my future husband on this man's appearance.

He was blushing, very slightly as he held it up for me. "Most people only know 1901," he said quietly as I reached out to take it back, "but Lisztomania is my favorite."

I felt my eyebrows rise. "You know this song?"

"Yeah, I recognized the lyrics when you were singing—I'm sorry for surprising you," he said apologetically, standing up—he was taller than I'd realized, and I updated my future-husband profile.

"Oh… uh… it's no problem, really," I said, my blush finally making its way onto my cheeks as I looked down at the spilled boxes all around us on the floor. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry."

He glanced around at the mess, and I took the chance to look at the red stitched name I would now never forget. Edward.

"As you said, it's no problem, really. Erm… can I help you find anything?" he asked, a sheepish smile unfolding beautifully on his face.

I hesitated, and then blurted it out. "One of my friends sent me to pick up condoms for her, but I don't know what she wants or needs."

He chuckled then, and my heart just about failed. "Well… that does make this difficult, then."

Edward pushed his hand through his hair—this was the first time I'd seen him do it, and it instantly became my favorite nervous habit in a man. Imagine this—sent condom shopping and I find the man I'm basing my future husband off of.

"Yeah," I said awkwardly, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear and slipping my iPod back into the waistband of my skinny jeans, wrapping the headphone cord around my neck. I shifted my weight onto one foot and then the other, feeling embarrassed and interested despite myself.

"Do you… I mean…" He laughed uncomfortably, flushing lightly pink again. "I'm just going to… put these back on the shelf."

I ducked down to help him, my cheeks a furious red, and we stacked condom boxes quietly for a few minutes until there were only three left. I grabbed one and reached for the other, just managing to touch it before his hand closed over it as well.

I gasped and glanced up in surprise, and he was staring at me with wide eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, letting my hand go. I shoved the boxes on the shelf and rose to my feet unsteadily—he was rubbing his wrist with his other hand, looking just as discomfited as I felt.

"Well…" he sighed.

"I think… I'll just make her get them for herself," I said finally, pulling my bag farther up onto my shoulder.

He leaned against the shelf in front of me, and I was disconcerted by the intensity of his green gaze. "Good idea. I'm sorry I can't help you."

That was the first time I actually imagined this man and I together—he could have helped me if I had been shopping for him. I found myself wondering what size he was, and then felt supremely guilty. I was a sick, pervy girl, yes I was.

"Thank you anyways," I mumbled quietly, backing away one step.

"No, thank you—I've been trying to find a song all night to distract me," Edward said, and flashed me the prettiest crooked smile in existence.

"I wish I could have given you new music instead—I like expanding people's tastes," I admitted, curling a piece of my hair around my finger.

His smile widened and he straightened up, eyes suddenly brighter. "Me too. It's my favorite thing about music. There's so much of it and there's a lot of possibilities with it."

Possibilities, indeed. "I suppose I'll see you around, then. Thank you, again." I grinned shyly back at him, and turned to walk out of the store, picking an iTunes card up off a rack before I left. Might as well use the trip for something.

Something other than ogling my new obsession, I meant. And an obsession it was, truly.

***

I'd been back every night since then. After the first week, it was easily an expected thing for both of us.

The song ends and I sigh, looking at the clock. "Fuck," I mutter when I see that it's 2:13 in the morning. I have an early class tomorrow. This just fucking sucks ass.

I save the document, pleased that I made it through so much of it. By Saturday, I might actually be able to sit down and write the damn thing after a week of outlining and plotting.

I close down the computer and heave myself out of my seat to get a glass of ice water from the kitchen. I carry the cold glass to my room, set it on my nightstand, and put my iPod on the docking station before going to the bathroom. My teeth feel gross, and I brush them while silently singing to myself; I continue the song as I comb through my hair and put it up in a ponytail because it's already frizzy and tomorrow it will be even worse. Humming the same under my breath, I turn off the light in my room, pull Jasper's t-shirt over my head, and slide between my soft sheets.

It will take a while for me to fall asleep, despite how long I've been up now. I close my eyes and roll onto my stomach, curling an arm around the corner of my pillow and sighing. I know what I want for Christmas now. I want one of Edward's shirts, a bottle of cologne made from his scent, or Edward himself. I'll take what I can get, but somehow I'm getting that boy's smell. Would he be freaked out if I ask for it tomorrow?

I smile at the thought. Our first meeting was over condoms—I doubt much will damage our strange friendship-thingy. Maybe I can finally ask him what time he gets off work.

"_As I move my feet towards your body  
I can hear this beat it fills my head up  
And gets louder and louder  
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder"_

_.... _

_AN--This will be a short story. I'm not sure how many chapters it'll generate, but it struck my fancy. We'll see where it goes. This song is awesome, by the way. Yay British iTunes for putting me onto it. :) How's it looking, guys? Good enough to continue or should I just focus on derivatives and Desdemona? Leave me a review with a musical recomendation, I'm always looking for new things to ad to my playlist. 5,000 words precisely, including the song. Night. :)_

_~ hyacinth_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2: Starlight_

Alice is sitting in class when I walk in at 8:57 am, nursing a cup of Starbucks and waiting with wide eager eyes for me to take my seat. She's off like the Roadrunner on speed as soon as my ass is hovering over my chair, and I huff as I fall into my seat and my left ear goes into overdrive.

"Alice," I say, one hand snapping out to cover her mouth. "Shut up for a minute. Or an hour. Or the entire lecture. Tell me when I'm more awake."

She pouts at me, but she isn't hurt, and for that I'm thankful. I'd only met the sprite a few months ago in this class, and we'd immediately been comfortable with each other. Well, she was comfortable—she forced me into heels first chance. She knows by now that I'm a monster in the mornings and that I can't handle even my close friends who are sweeter than strawberries with half a pound of sugar dumped on them—which is how I prefer mine, incidentally.

Alice is slice of red velvet cake with chocolate liqueur frosting, white chocolate sprinkled on top, sweet and impossibly delicious and amazing in the mornings. Me? I'm more... like a Warhead or lemon drop or something with that naturally face-puckering 'ow, shit, ow,' kind of vibe going on.

I'm usually a little more manageable by lunchtime, once my tart outer layer has worn off a bit.

Dr. Bering lectures us on the implementation and introduction of the Byronic hero in literature, bringing up books every woman in this classroom must love. My personal Byronic heroes: Edward Rochester (though I am still a little annoyed with his wife-yet-living trick), Claude Frollo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame (I actually really liked him when he was introduced), and The Phantom of the Opera (Raoul? Pssh, give me Erik any day).

I also personally consider Mr. Darcy to be my favorite Byronic hero ever, in my own humble opinion. That may just be my love complex at work, though. Who doesn't love themselves a Mr. Darcy?

Kate, a girl who sits a few seats in front of me, makes the mistake of harping on this very literary figure, and we both end up getting set in a heated debate right away once Dr. Bering recognizes he has the makings for an interesting intellectual book-nerd showdown. Ah, college.

I lay out my evidence masterfully—he's an arrogant bastard, for sure, rich and handsome. Mr. Darcy is highly perceptive and intelligent, proven by his many deadlocks with Elizabeth; he's cunning, even when he's breaking up Jane and Bingley. And the air of mystery and his sexual appeal are just breathtaking throughout. He thinks he's God's gift to the world, until Lizzy shoots down his marriage proposal and forces him to inspect his soul for the many blemishes. He's superior to everyone, both socially—as proven when he first shows at the ball—and intellectually, and is definitely moody and bipolar and spends too much time thinking about what will happen to his reputation if he lets himself love Lizzy the way his heart wants to. He has the back story with Wickham to add to his past and his conflicted perception of people in general… But he's also protective of his sister, funny, and truly a good enough person when all is said and done. True, he's not as tortured as, say, Heathcliff, but he's got the part down in my book.

Dr. Bering finally declares my point valid as the end of our session approaches, and Kate rolls her eyes, but she's grinning when we head back to our seats. My smile can't be tamed and getting Mr. Darcy his proper title finally dissipates my bad morning mood. I'm happy to save my favorite male literary character and place him on the proper platform he deserves. I've totally got you back, Mr. Darcy, don't worry.

"Well done," Alice chirps.

I nod at her, still smiling, and take a few notes from Dr. Bering's closing statements for the day. We fall to chatting as we begin to pack our bags, and I find out that she's frustrated with my best friend because he still hasn't kissed her and her libido is on fire whenever he enters the room and she wants him so badly that she's thinking about taking the initiative and surprising the shit out of him by showing up on our doorstep in a flasher coat, a lavender demi-bra and thong set, and black leather hooker boots.

"Make sure I'm not home for that one," I mutter, eyebrows raised at her relevant horniness. "Please."

She laughs and hauls me out of the room toward the quad. "Come on, Baby Bells, let's eat. Then you can tell me what small less-outrageous things get Jazz all hot and bothered in a girl."

I spill Jazz's secret—all too common among men—desires for the schoolgirl getup, and Alice vows she'll head over to our apartment later in a short red plaid skirt, white button up shirt, navy-and-red striped tie, white thigh-high stockings, and small red high heels. I tell her Jasper might combust, but he'd go to the bathroom to do so instead of risking it with her. I tell her that Jasper is really shy around her and he wants things done properly when it comes to Alice.

She squeals, of course, and I wonder if I'm betraying Jasper by telling her this. But hey, it will only add to his happiness in the end once they're married in a year—according to Alice's very detailed plans. He'll be down on his knees thanking me and worshipping me as the rightful goddess of best friends, as I deserve.

Alice is also able to withdraw his favorite take-out food, the way he's always complaining to me about how he's scared to do anything more than hold her hand because she's so delicate and he cares so much, and that Jasper really really likes her and is still deciding how to make a move. The pixie-demon wins all of this information in the time it takes us to order, pick up our lunches, and find a seat on the grass somewhere.

"He's terrified that he'll hurt you or do something to push you away from him. Jazz is a really private person, but he's also really trusting and he can't help but be afraid that people will take advantage of that fact. And then there's the fact that he really respects your soul right next to his evident desire for your little demon-pixie body, and he's warring about which side he wants to give into . He's determined to join your souls before he so much as licks your neck," I tell her, shrugging and taking a bite of my food.

I pause, and Alice is staring at me with wide eyes, chin propped on the heel one hand as she listens attentively, one sourdough breadstick held motionlessly in her free hand. "And Alice, I really like you and everything, but Jasper and I… well, he comes first for me. I mean, he's family to me, and as the saying goes, blood runs thicker than water. Not that you're water or anything, and I adore you, but… just… don't hurt him or I'll be forced to burn everything you own," I say apologetically.

She smiles at me widely, and I frown. I don't think my point really reached home. "Oh, I won't hurt him, Bella. I promise."

Uncertainly, I sigh and nod. "Okay, I just want you to know that if you do, you'll be sorry."

"Alright. Want to hang out tonight, just you and me?" she asks, finally dipping the sourdough breadstick into her clam chowder.

My thoughts immediately fly to finding excuses, though I don't remember the reason they do so until I've blurted out, "Can't, I'm busy."

Alice narrows her eyes at me, and I hastily twirl spaghetti around my fork. "With what?" she asks, pouting.

"Erm…" I flounder for an excuse before settling for one. "I'm working tonight."

"No, you're not, you've got an early shift" she argues, putting her food down again. I'm in trouble now, damn it. "You're making excuses, that's what you're really doing, admit it."

I stare silently at her and she growls and whacks me over the head with her breadstick, surprising the shit out of me. "Fuck, Alice! What the hell?!" I demand furiously, rubbing my forehead.

"Stop lying and being a baby, Bella," she orders, dangerous and threatening despite the fact that she's a certified midget according to her height. It's utterly hilarious to see her with Jasper, and despite the fact that it weirds me out, I can't help but wonder how the sex will be with such a size difference.

"I'm not!" I protest, sitting up and leaning away from her. "You just hit me, dammit!"

"Oh well. What's going on, really? Are you mad at me? Do you not feel good? Did I upset you by talking about Jasper? I'm sorry, Bella, really," she simpers, going from demanding to pleading in one nano-second. Her eyes drop to her lunch and she pokes at her clam chowder with the most miserable expression in the world.

My heart melts. "Oh, Alice, no, I'm not mad at you. Of course not. I just… I don't really go out, you know that."

"I used to be able to get you out at least three times a month, and now you're busy every night, even the ones you're not working. Do you have a new boyfriend or something? I'm really offended if you do, because you should have told me. And if you wouldn't, Jasper should have." Alice glares at me now, and I groan out loud, falling back to the grass.

"NO, I don't have a boyfriend. I just… can't I just have some fucking time to myself?" I whine unattractively.

"Why tonight?" she pushes, leaning toward me.

"Because," I answer petulantly, crossing my arms. "I have to go buy ingredients for dinner tonight anyways."

"Your grocery shopping can wait, Bella," she points out.

The point might be valid to some people, but to me, seeing Edward is my main goal and I can't even think about skipping out on my grocery guy. He was the number one item on my grocery list, even if it was only to ogle and talk to him a bit every night.

"Not really," I say, and then look at my watch. "Oh, dear, I've got a class across campus. Bye, Alice!"

She rolls her eyes and throws the last bite of her breadstick at me as I get up, but I wave cheerfully and stroll away. I finally allow myself to groan when I'm out of earshot, and blow my bangs out of my face in frustration. She's like a pitbull, I swear to God. I'm going to have to be careful now.

_Far away  
This ship has taken me far away  
Far away from the memories  
Of the people who care if I live or die_

I sit down quietly in my next class, and am pleasantly surprised when Kate from my first course takes a seat next to me for the first time this year.

"Hey, it's Bella, right?" she asks, flicking her straight blond hair back over her shoulder and offering me a tentative smile.

"And you're Kate," I say.

Her smile widens and she relaxes. "You had a brilliant debate earlier. I was impressed. You're usually pretty quiet in class, so I've never really noticed you too much, and I'm sorry. I think life would have been more interesting if we'd gotten to know each other sooner."

I have to smile at her bluntness. "We've still got most of the year," I point out, smiling back. "If I didn't convince you Mr. Darcy should be held near and dear to your heart as super Byronic hero, we still have a while."

She laughs at me. "If you insist. You're friends with that Alice girl, right?" she asks, switching tracks as she pulls out her computer.

My red spiral notebook looks sad next to her new Mac Book Pro, but I pull it out dutifully and uncap my blue ballpoint pen, setting it on a blank page for when the professor arrives. "Yeah," I answer warily. "We met earlier this year."

"She's cute. I like her style. I like yours too, sometimes—it's effortlessly cute skater, today at least," she tells me, pushing her hair back.

I shake my head, wondering how my black skinny jeans, Converse, and band t-shirt classify me as 'cute skater.' Maybe she's just addressing my silver-studded belt—Jasper's last Christmas present, actually. He got me the silver watch on my left wrist to match.

"Thanks, Kate, but I just dress for comfort. Any sense of style is effortless and unintended."

Kate laughs. "I knew it. And I knew there was a reason I would like you other than your obviously intelligent mind. Do you care if I move back to sit with you in our classes?"

"Alice wouldn't mind, and neither do I," I tell her, grinning. Something about her relaxes me, and it's nice to find someone I can so easily connect to. I wonder if she has any cute guy friends to distract me from my grocery man-boy, and feel immediately guilty. I can't cheat on Edward, even if he's not technically mine and I'm not technically his. Yet.

"Cool. What are you doing later? There are a bunch of girls from first course going out tonight. I'm sure Alice was invited and you were probably too, but just in case, I'm extending the invite." Kate flashes me all of her dentist's-dream-come-true teeth, and I barely hold back a groan.

"Erm… that's really kind of nice of you, Kate, but I… I already had to turn Alice down. Maybe another time?" I say, blushing and wishing Edward hadn't taken over my entire night-life now. Five minutes with my grocery boy is now apparently worth more than a few hours of making girl friends and drinking. Not that I can order alcohol, but somehow I always end up getting it anyway. And Edward… well, he's Edward, isn't he? There is no adequate explanation for my fucking obsession.

_The starlight  
I will be chasing the starlight  
Until the end of my life  
I don't know if it's worth it anymore_

She shrugs, but doesn't seem offended. "I hope your boy-toy is as hunky as I'm thinking he is. Next time, just bring him with us."

I laugh. "Oh, he's not my boy-toy."

"No?" Kate arches her eyebrow, and I wince.

"I can't believe I just walked into that," I mutter, and she laughs, turning in her seat to face me fully.

"Now you have to tell. Who is he, what's he like, what's the deal with him, how far along is your relationship or do you have one… Hurry, before Professor Mardina gets here!"

Sadly, this is all it takes to get me to spill. I feel like I'm betraying Alice, but Kate is a somewhat stranger-acquaintance, so it isn't as awkward and she probably won't make it living hell for me. And if I told Jasper? _Woo_-boy, that'd be death row for my ego and the elixir of life for his entertainment.

"We met in a grocery store over an aisle of spilled condoms," I confess. Kate laughs, as I knew she would, and I smile at the still-very-vivid memory of that night. "He works the late shift there, and I was picking stuff up for Alice when I knocked everything down. We got to talking about music, and now I've found some excuse to go back every night so we can talk and test each other's musical knowledge."

_Hold you in my arms  
I just wanted to hold you in my arms_

I've forced the words quickly out of my unwilling mouth—I wonder if I sound like Alice after three straight shoots of caffeinated drink. I'm clearly unstable and insane. I shouldn't be telling people this if I want to continue stalking him in peace.

Kate stares at me, and then gasps. "Wow. So… he's hot, then?"

I nod slowly with wide eyes. "Beautiful," I breathe, all green eyes and messy bronze sex hair and crooked smile and definite defined musculature and man-boy smell and desire-inducing…

Professor Mardina arrives just as Kate opens her mouth for her next question, and I am saved by the sound of my teacher's voice as I pick up my pen to take my notes.

I'm shocked at my conduct, utterly shocked. I don't even know Kate that well, I'm not sure how much I can trust her with. After all, she refuses to admit that Mr. Darcy is the ultimate Byronic hero, and that is a major knock-out on my score sheet. But she seems nice and open. I can't help but like her well enough so far.

I still feel like I've betrayed Jasper and Alice, though. Both of them are actual friends of mine, and they've both asked about what is going on every night now. I know I can trust them with anything, and yet I still hesitate to tell them. Maybe because I'm afraid of what they'll say and think, because their opinions are so important to me. Or maybe I already know how they'll respond to my obsession with an unknowing grocery clerk. I'm not willing to be put in a padded white cell just because I can't help my attraction to Edward.

Kate wishes me a good day at the end of class, and I slowly start toward my job, ready to just skip ahead until later tonight.

Emmett McCarty Cullen, my boss, is only a few years older than me. He has a double major in Business and English, and combined his two loves by opening his own independent bookstore two years ago. I'd applied for the job as soon as I found out I was accepted to school, and he'd called me for an interview in May. By July, when Jazz and I had arrived, I'd had the job and have been working four days a week since then.

He's singing, of course, when I walk in. I'm immediately scarred by the sight of his ass waving around as he shrieks Shakira, and I don't have to question why the store is empty right now. Only our best customers, the ones who know Emmett well, can handle this type of mood from the giant 6'5'' monstrosity.

I manage to pretend like ignoring him is working as I head into the back for my hunter-green apron. There's a box of new arrivals settled on the counter next to the basket I normally drop my stuff in, and I take it as a hint to get busy. I've turned on my iPod and am halfway through labeling the books in the box when Emmett dances his way back into the storage room with me.

"Bella!"

Even over my exceptionally loud music, I can still hear him. I wince theatrically and untangle my legs to stand up. He swoops me up in a hug, as is customary, and then sets me on top of the washer—necessary because he spills coffee on himself or someone else at least once a day.

Sighing, I pull out my headphones. "Hey, Em. Dead day?"

"Nah, only for the last forty minutes or so. But that's on purpose. I'm practicing, and people tend to stay away when I do," he says, waving my words away with a dustbin sized hand. "It's all part of The Plan."

'The Plan' is Emmett's idea that eccentricity is really what people are looking for in a bookstore. They don't want some tribute and shrine to a popular book series about vampires—and I agree that it's creepy to see the little action figures and ribbons and shirts and crap on display in the chain stores. But I have yet to convince Emmett that people also aren't looking for a lunatic screeching Shakira at the top of his lungs.

"Of course," I mutter. "You wanted those books added to inventory, priced, numbered, and put out, right?" I ask, nodding at the box in the corner.

"Yeah, that'd be great. But first… can you run to the grocery store really fast and grab me a box of granola bars?" he pleads, pouting.

Immediately, my heart accelerates and Edward's singing voice floats through my head. "Erm… now?" I squeak.

"Like you said, the store is kind of empty, so it's a good time to go. Plus, I'm starving and I forgot to grab lunch," he whines, much like a three year old. I can't wait until he has kids—his wife is going to have to work to kick his large ass into gear.

"Really?" I ask uncertainly, blowing my bangs out of my face again.

"Make sure they're the Chewy bars with 25% less sugar or whatever. The peanut butter and chocolate chip ones, please. Oh, and get a box of chocolate Teddy Grams, please. And Sunny Delight, original flavor. You can get a candy bar for yourself," he bribes, holding out a twenty. "Please, Bella, please, please, please?"

I sigh and roll my eyes, taking the twenty. "I'll be back in a while, call if you need me."

The store is semi-full—mothers are grabbing supplies for dinner now, and I wonder if they're all here for the same damn reason I am. Not because my boss wants me to be here, but because I am stalking an employee.

I don't even know if Edward is here at this time. It's only four-thirty in the afternoon, because Emmett's closing the store at eight tonight instead of ten. And I know Edward works the late shift. I frown as I walk down an aisle. What days does he have off, anyway? He's always been here—doesn't he have time off at some point? A month straight of working?

Of course, as my luck would have it, I'm crouching in front of the granola selection and staring intently at the boxes when long legs tangle with my limbs and come crashing down beside me. His eyes are wide and shocked when I turn to glare at the idiot who tripped over me, and I immediately fix my gaze, feeling my lips part in surprise.

_My life  
You electrify my life  
Let's conspire to ignite  
All the souls that would die just to feel alive_

Edward smiles sheepishly and sits up, sliding back against the shelf next to where I'm now sitting and rubbing the back of his head. My headphones have fallen out and are dangling around my neck, weak guitar strains and lyrics barely audible.

"Sorry," he says quietly.

I roll my eyes, smiling a little. "Nice one. I give that a nine point three, because you lacked arm-wheeling," I tease.

He laughs, and my outlook on life brightens. He's got a sunny personality, that's for sure. "Next time," he promises, and then falls silent, musing as he stares at me. "I'm kind of glad it's you I tripped over," he admits.

My eyebrow rises like a question mark, and he turns slightly pink. "Why?" I ask.

"Because I hope you won't report me," he shrugs, chuckling a little. "Are you okay, by the way? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you missed, but just barely," I point out, and finally notice the load he dropped around us. "On your way to the vegetable oil aisle?" I ask as the sticky oily liquid starts to seep into the calf of my jeans.

"Oh, shit," he breathes. I look at him in surprise, and he grimaces. "Sorry, really. Um… oh, fuck, I apologize for my bad timing and being so horribly unaware of my surroundings. And for cussing."

I laugh and sit back against the shelf next to him. "Don't worry about the cussing—my best friend and roommate rivals my dad's vocabulary, and I picked up on that by the time I was fourteen. As for the tripping… I understand how you feel. From ten to seventeen, I was the most awkward and clumsy creature in existence."

Is that too much information? Crap.

Luckily, Edward chuckles. "Still… Do you want to clean up in back really fast?"

_I'll never let you go  
If you promise not to fade away  
Never fade away_

I wonder if Emmett will mind, but he hasn't called me, and when I left he had moved on to showcasing his Britney Spears talents. "Am I allowed to?"

"Yeah, my manager won't mind," Edward says. He's quite careful about getting up, trying not to slip unnecessarily in the oil lake. He reaches down for me, and I almost start hyperventilating at the sight of those long elegant orgasm-inducing fingers closing around mine. Oh, shit, spring coiling already. Fuck, what a fire.

Edward pulls me up easily, and I blush and smile and slip through the oil like I'm on ice. He's laughing as he tries to keep us upright, feet sliding and unsteady. Finally, we reach the edge.

I close my free hand on his sleeve, and he looks back at me with a question in his beautiful eyes. "We should take off our shoes—they still have a ton of oil on them and we'd just continue slipping," I say, taking back my hands and carefully crouching down to unlace my now-sticky Converse.

I'm amazed, though, when I see his nimble fingers plucking at his purple and white checkered laces. Oh, God, please, please, please… Take me into the back room for another reason than just cleaning me up. Make a mess of me, please, Edward, please just take me back there.

_Our hopes and expectations  
Black holes and revelations  
Our hopes and expectations  
Black holes and revelations_

Edward leads me up to the front of the store so he can notify someone of the spillage—hopefully little old Granny-Evil Eye won't break her hip if she slips through it.

The manager is tall and blond and very attractive, but he doesn't make my toes tingle as if I've accidentally stepped onto the third rail of a subway line. His name is Carlisle, and he lets us go into the back without a fight—he rolls his eyes at Edward, who flushes and shrugs, but that's it.

It's kind of cold in the back, and Edward hurries us toward a small room where I'm surprised to find a washing machine and dryer set next to a large sink. I ask about it, and Edward tells me there are lots of mishaps in a grocery store and that it's kind of necessary.

He reaches into cupboard over the sink and pulls down a cloth, which turns out to be a flowered purple-yellow-and-blue skirt. "Sorry, but it's all we have left in here until Esme restocks," he says, holding it out with a smile. "The bathroom is through there."

I grimace as I change into the skirt. It looks ridiculous with my band shirt and the Converse I'll be putting back on in a moment. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and soap up my hands, arms, and calves to relieve my skin of the heavy oil.

By the time I walk out, Edward has changed from his black uniform pants into a pair of form-fitting flat front dark denim jeans. My mouth waters, and my eyes flicker to the washing machine. It's the right height for what I'm imagining…

I bite my lower lip, hard, to stop my thoughts halfway through.

"_Hold you in my arms,  
I just wanted to hold you in my arms_," he says, smiling, and I know he's quoting a song, though I wish he really did just want to hold me in his arms. I wouldn't object, at all, as long as the rest of our anatomy was getting acquainted as well. A certain part of me was quite eager to meet a certain part of him at the moment. Or multiple parts of him within the next hour.

"Easy," I smirk. "I thought you were going to go all eclectic on me tonight."

"Alright, sorry I'm going easy on you. What is it, then?" he challenges, grabbing a new black uniform apron—this one doesn't have his name on it, and I lament the fact.

"'Starlight' by Muse," I answer, quirking an eyebrow in answer to his horribly easy challenge.

"Correct," he agrees, smiling and stepping toward me. "I can wash your jeans here and give them back to you some other time, or I can give you a plastic bag to put them in."

I blush. I want him to keep my pants, but only after he's pushed unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed them off of my hips before skimming his sculpted nose up tender skin of the inside of my thigh. I shiver.

"I'll probably just take them," I answer. "If that's okay."

Edward laughs. "They _are _your pants."

"True," I muse, and we laugh together now, the sound echoing and bouncing back from the close walls. It's a kind of small room, what with the sink and washer/dryer taking up space. I still really want to push him back against the wall and force myself onto him. And I still really _really_ want him to lift me onto the top of the washer and have his eager and wicked ways with me—plural. I'm sure there are enough possibilities to last the rest of the night.

He makes my skin tingle as he guides me out of the room and back toward the white-light of the store. His ass is impeccably beautiful in those jeans, and I want to make a shrine to it, and to the rest of him, which is surely just as amazing, even the parts I'm not acquainted with at the moment but will now spend the whole rest of my night daydreaming and wondering about, because how could one _not _daydream about what was in the front of those jeans or under that kind of wrinkled red shirt…

"What are you doing here now, anyway?" he asks as he opens a door for me. I'm depressed to realize we're back in the regular populated store and any sex I may have been imagining is now impossible and largely illegal.

"My boss asked me to pick up a few things," I answer. "You?"

"Working," he smirks, and I want to slam my head in the freezer doors next to us.

"Right. What time do you start?" I inquire, really trying to figure out what time he gets off. Maybe he wants to go for drinks later? The girls would understand, I'm pretty sure they'd all make the same choice.

"Usually around two or three," he says, yawning and lifting his hand to run through his hair. _I _want to run my hand through his hair, damn it.

My brow furrows. "But then what time do you get off?"

He stumbles and his neck flushes a darker pink than I've yet seen. "Erm… oh… well…"

He's stuttering over his words, and it's absolutely adorable. I giggle unexpectedly, and now I want to fucking melt and slide into the drain next to the freezers.

"Eight or nine," he mutters unwillingly, quietly enough that I almost don't hear him.

I stop walking.

_Far away  
This ship has taken me far away  
Far away from the memories  
Of the people who care if I live or die_

"Wait, then why are you always here at 10:30?" I'm so fucking confused.

"Well, I mean, I take the late shift sometimes," he flounders, still blushing as he starts walking again, leading me down an aisle.

"Sometimes? But you're here every night," I protest. "I've made sure of it."

He stops and turns to face me, confusion and embarrassment equal parts on his heart-breaking and stunning face. "What do you mean, you've made sure of it?"

"Nothing," I manage to stammer out. _Die, die, die, you stupid brain. You suck. _"You first."

"I stay to help out, or talk to a coworker, or… well… I have a certain customer who comes in every night after ten, so I like to wait around to have a discussion about music too," he finally admits, eyes intent on mine, challenging now that the embarrassment is leaking out.

I'm struck dumb. Okay, okay, I need to keep breathing. "Oh," I say. Yes, I'm now a certified idiot and need to be taken in for a study about what happens when the overactive libido takes over and misinterprets everything. He wanted our musical discussions, not my body. Damn it.

"Now you," he prods, arching an eyebrow.

It's my turn to blush now. "I just noticed you're here every night is all," I say, looking at the ground and dragging my shoe over a tile.

I can hear him take a deep breath and he turns away from me for a second. "Okay. Well. I actually think I should introduce myself," he says.

I almost burst into hysterical laughter. His name is burned into my skin by now, and I'm sure my girlie-parts are far too aware of it to be fair.

_I'll never let you go  
If you promise not to fade away  
Never fade away_

"I'm Edward Masen Cullen," he says, holding out his hand and smiling at me. "And you, strange nightly customer, are…?"

I fill in the blank mindlessly—"Isabella Marie Swan, but call me Bella"—and then do a double-take when I process his last name. "Cullen?" I ask, voice slightly higher than usual. "Do you know Emmett McCarty Cullen?"

_Our hopes and expectations  
Black holes and revelations  
Our hopes and expectations  
Black holes and revelations_

Oh please, oh fuck no, please no…

Edward seems flummoxed as he shakes my hand. "Er… yeah, he's my brother."

Fuck. Me.

_Hold you in my arms  
I just wanted to hold you in my arms  
I just wanted to hold_

***

_AN: _I started this in EPOV, and I really liked it, but then I realized that I should probably leave it one POV. Anyway. I'm not really sure where this crap came from, so yeah. It's 1:40 in the morning again. This is what nonsense I get for staying up late to write. 5,700 words exactly, according to my Word Doc. Fanfic gives me more credit. :) Leave a review and a musical recomendation, please. Don't know when I'll next update. G'night! ~ _hyacinth_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3: Faint_

I groan as I slam the door behind me, thanking my lucky stars that I can go home now.

My job used to be wonderful, but ever since this afternoon, it's been torture. Emmett even commented on it and asked if I was okay—he never does that, even on the days when my period has me curled up in a ball of tears and pain like a rabid animal. I had no idea what to tell him of course—'Don't worry Em, I'm only masturbating to the image of your fuck-hot younger brother Edward.'

Or not.

_I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard  
Handful of complaints but I can't help the fact  
That everyone can see these scars_

I ended up just telling him that I was upset about something at school that I had just remembered. He'd even tried to help, bless his soul. Even if I do want to kill him for being in my face now of all times, I love him.

Reluctantly, I think back to this afternoon. I'd made my excuses to Edward—namely, that I was working and needed to get back—and zoomed through the store as if I had a rocket attached to my crotch. Might as well have—I was uncomfortable enough, thanks to the _lovely _'turned on' button that Edward had inadvertently pushed a few times too many today. And because I was technically on the job, taking care of the discomfort didn't seem right, so I just had to deal with it all day.

The look on his face as I blushed and stammered excuses before running away with my horny tail tucked between my legs was burned into my memory—confused, concerned, slightly wounded.

Sorry, grocery boy, but I'm not banging my boss's brother, no matter how much I may want you to push me up against a goddamn shelf, pop the buttons off my jeans to get to me sooner, and plunge yourself into me until I'm screaming and pulling your hair and clenching around you in a blessed release, and the cops are on the way to arrest us both for indecent exposure and public displays of affection. Then I want us to go at it in jail. Yeah, I'm that hot for you, Edward. And you're related to my fucking boss, you perfect prick.

_I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel  
But it's like no matter what I do  
I can't convince you to just believe this is real_

I blow my bangs out of my face and hitch my purse up higher on my shoulder, face burning again. Damn, I just want to get home and get him off my mind now—if that means a date with my own hand, so be it.

When I turn the corner onto my street and finally look up from the rock I'm kicking along the pavement, I groan—Alice is sitting on the steps outside my apartment, clearly waiting for me since I can see Jasper's motorcycle in the parking lot, which means he's upstairs.

Hoping I'm not too late, I duck behind the low brick wall that lines the other side of my street, and glare up at the leaves of a tree above me. How I wish I didn't have to deal with her tonight. I love the girl, really, but… can't I just suffer alone tonight and get my heat for Edward out of the way?

Sadly, Alice's all-too-annoyed face appears over the wall. It's a wonder she can even bend over it, short as she is. I sigh and stare up at her wordlessly.

"Busy, are you?" she snaps, tapping her nails on top of the bricks.

"Er, yes," I say. "I'm actually on my way home to scratch an itch."

Her face crumples in confusion. "Really, Bella, you're so weird. The only reason we're even possibly stopping by your apartment is to dress you up for tonight. We're going out."

"Ha," I snort. "You're funny, Alice."

"And you're shit out of luck, babe," she says, snarky and smirky and too confident.

And right.

"Fuck," I sigh. "You suck."

"Yeah, suck dick," she jokes as she waits for me to stand.

"Not Jasper's," I snipe back, delivering the low blow. Ha. Blow.

Alice rolls her eyes. "You're such a bitch when you don't get your way, I swear to God you're like a five year old sometimes."

"I'm taking a shower," I tell her, hoping I'll have time to work myself to release. I can't go anywhere wound up this tightly.

"Five minutes," she says.

Fuck. Get clean _and_ unleash the coil? In five minutes? Damn her.

"Twelve," I bargain. "And I'll even let you force me into heels."

"Sheesh, Bella, desperate aren't you?" Alice snorts, and I roll my eyes and begin to drag myself up from the grass.

"Kind of," I mutter under my breath.

"Great. Twelve minutes as soon as the water starts," she tells me, nodding firmly.

Jasper is sitting on the couch and reading a magazine when I walk in—he smiles at me, and I watch as his grin becomes mega-watt '_she's here, she's here_!' status as his eyes fall on Alice. "Hey," he says, acting calm and cool. "You found her, then."

"Yup, she was hiding behind the brick wall across the street. We're going out—you can come, if you want to," Alice says, gliding past him. I watch over my shoulder as his face becomes glazed with lust, and I hope he gives into her soon. This little demon won't give up on cracking that man, ever. And once she's got the promise of Jasper waiting to fuck her at whatever point in time she desires, my life will be my own again and I'll be free to get off in the shower without a time limit.

The dress isn't as bad as it has been—this one is actually kind of me. I chalk it up to Alice getting to know me better daily. It's sleeveless, navy blue with a white ribbon around the waist and a white bow with detail around the collar—it's hits me at about my knees, and I'm grateful that I'm not playing hoochie-mama tonight.

I grab the dress, a white bra and panty set, and hurriedly head for the shower.

_So, I let go watchin' you, turn your back  
Like you always do, face away and pretend that I'm not  
But I'll be here 'cause you are all that I've got_

As soon as the hot water is spraying down on my back, my hands are already transforming into Edward's and I'm panting with need. He laughs quietly, lowly, as he pushes me lightly up against the wall of the shower—the cold tile is a shock to the skin of my back, but it only adds to the sensation of his perfect hands tracing over my body—starting at my collarbones, dancing down to lightly circle my breasts, becoming firmer as he pushes his body into mine. I moan, and he claps his hand over my mouth.

"Shh, Bella, they'll hear," he whispers, breath hot on my sensitive ear. "We won't be able to finish."

His other hand moves directly to where I want it most, and the hand over my mouth clamps down harder as his fingers trace my wet folds, light and torturous before they slip inside to land on my clit, pressure and heat rippling up to brush my stomach, which has long since clenched in anticipation.

"How do you want it, Bella? Tell me," he breathes against my neck, and I'm pleased to note his breathing is turning into panting too. He moves his hand from my mouth to my waist, tracing absently over the skin, barely noticeable.

I shiver. "Edward," I whisper. I can't say more, can't form the words.

"Come on, Bella, tell me," he says, fingers circling my clit in a dance that is just working me up more.

"Inside," I gasp. "Please."

"Inside, Bella? Like this?"

I gasp again as his finger plunges into me, and try not to moan. "More," I pant.

Wordlessly, he adds another, and I can practically hear every time his fingers move in and out. I'm so close to release, day long frustration adding to the intensity.

"Harder," I order breathlessly, and he obliges, letting his heavy head fall on my shoulder. I imagine the way his arms will look as they flex as he pounds his hand into me, and then I think about how it will feel when I can wrap my legs around his waist and bite his shoulder as another part of him pleasures me.

He covers my mouth again as I start making unintelligible sounds, and finally my blessed release coats his—my—fingers. He disappears as his beautiful phantom lips whisper something soundlessly against my neck, and I'm left alone and thinking of him.

_I can't feel the way I did before, don't turn your back on me  
I won't be ignored, time won't heal this damage anymore  
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored_

Gasping, I let my head loll against the wall before Alice pounds on the door, effectively startling me. "Hurry up, Bella, nine minutes down!"

It's fucking embarrassing to be sure, but I can't really find it in myself to care at the moment as I rush through my shower routine. I wonder how my routine will change once I get him in here with me, and then chide myself and remember that he's related to my boss. Any of his sexual escapades with me will most likely make it back to my employer and then I'll be screwed for being screwed.

I dry off and get dressed quickly, listening to Alice on the other side of the door as she talks nonstop about our clothes and activities and other things I don't pay attention to. She whips the door open as soon as I unlock it and holds up my shoes—navy toed with white sides, navy buttons, and a red underside to the heel. They're cute, and remind me of some old profession, but they go well with my dress and I almost don't care that I'll probably trip numerous times or break one of them. I don't ask about their origins, because I'm afraid of what Alice will tell me about the price.

Alice's outfit is more flamboyant than mine, as per her usual—her dress is a cross between teal and turquoise, one shouldered with a small black belt at the waist. A pair of heart-shaped black glasses hangs from the side of her purse, and her high platform peep toed heels scare me just looking at them. As always, her ring adorns her right index finger—'_We're all mad here,_' a play on her favorite movie and what she claims is her namesake.

She brushes through my hair anxiously, but doesn't pause to dry or straighten it—it will wave as the evening goes on, and she tells me she's counting on this as she sets a navy blue hat on my head, waving her own black one in front of me. I laugh, and she pokes at my face with mascara and eyeliner and lip gloss before declaring me done. I wish Edward could see me like this, wonder what it would do to him if I looked like the pinup girl Alice is trying to make me into, and then I sigh and banish those thoughts.

_I am a little bit insecure, a little unconfident  
'Cause you don't understand, I do what I can  
But sometimes I don't make sense_

Jasper leans his head into the bathroom and tells us he's ready to go when we are. Alice smiles at him, sultry and beautiful and cute in her dress, pale skin of her free shoulder tantalizing his greedy eyes. "Ready," she says, and I'm pretty sure Jasper catches her double meaning. I hope so. And I hope he doesn't come back tonight.

I grab my watch and Alice makes me clasp on her necklace as we rush out of the apartment, locking it behind us and bounding down the stairs like drunk college students—or soon to be drunk, anyway.

Jasper offers to drive us, but I remind him that my truck doesn't like him and his Ducati only sits two at most. He shrugs and blushes, and Alice rolls her eyes and presses a button so that her cute Mini Cooper chirps at us. "Bella in back," she orders, and I sigh as I climb in, hoping I'm not flashing my best friend as I do so.

Alice distracts Jazz as she starts driving to wherever she's taking us—I hadn't asked for directions, because I am afraid that if I know I'll jump out of the moving car and wind up either dead or in the hospital, which contrary to true belief, I think is even worse than a club.

I'm left alone in the backseat to wonder about my day and lament my conversation with Edward. I want to hit myself with a heavy book until my brain spasms as I recall the many times Emmett has mentioned his younger brother—Edward this, Edward that. I hated hearing about his Edward, but I hadn't connected the dots when I first met Grocery Boy Edward. He couldn't possibly be any further from Emmett's Brother Edward, in my opinion. Unless, apparently, they were one and the same.

_I am what you never want to say but I've never  
Had a doubt, it's like no matter what I do  
I can't convince you for once just to hear me out_

Jasper surprises me by turning on the radio to a loud bouncy pop station—usually he's listening to mellow and indie instead of… uh… Lady Gaga, if I'm correct—which I am, because I actually like this song sometimes.

My phone rings when Alice announces we're just around the corner and should be looking out for any opportune parking spaces. I answer as I point over Jasper's shoulder to an empty spot. "Hello?"

"Hey Bella. Is Alice on her way yet?"

"Um… Kate?" I ask, surprised. "How'd you get my number?"

"Oh, I asked Alice after classes earlier. Are you guys here yet?" She's shouting into the phone over the loud music of the club I'm presuming we're hitting up tonight.

"Yeah," I sigh unwillingly.

"How's grocery boy?" she asks teasingly. "Did you bring him?"

I groan. "I'll tell you inside. And no, I did not and cannot. Bye."

Alice miraculously gets us in within fifteen minutes; she grabs the skirt of my dress and pulls me around the edges of the dance floor to a booth of white leather—occupied by no less than four couples. I stop walking and hastily jerk away from Alice's grip as Kate leans around a beautiful brunette to laugh at none other than my darling boss.

Fuck. Just fuck my life. First Edward's revelation, dealing with an awkward Emmett all afternoon, and now stuck in the same booth as my boss again, after using the image of his brother to get off…

_So, I let go watchin' you, turn your back  
Like you always do, face away and pretend that I'm not  
But I'll be here 'cause you are all that I've got_

Jasper pushes past me, smiling, and rests his hand on Alice's lower back. She's lit up instantly, and Kate laughs when she notices them standing there, sliding further into the booth. The blond guy sitting next to her, who I recognize as Garrett from my American Literature class, laughs and pulls her onto his lap, and I can't help but want to leave. Alice looks around for me threateningly, and I mime drinking something. She nods, and Kate waves enthusiastically, hitting the table to get everyone's attention and pointing at me. I can read her lips as she introduces me by name. Fuck.

Emmett's face breaks into a grin and he's suddenly jumping up and yelling something across the crowd—his girl looks thoroughly annoyed; she's rolling her eyes and I know she thinks he's an idiot—she won't last beyond an hour. I blush and hesitantly wave at him before disappearing into the crowd to get to the bar across the room.

The bartender barely chances a glance at me, and I know it must be the dress or something, because my fake ID actually works. I order a Corona and turn to lean against the bar and look over the domain Alice chose for us tonight. I recognize a lot of the girls on the dance floor as university students—some I've never talked to, and some I say 'hi' to in passing. Kate hadn't lied when she said it was girl's night out.

Rosalie Hale is sitting at a table by herself. She was in my psychology elective last semester, and we'd gotten along pretty well. I wonder if she'll mind company, and then decide to chance it. "Hey, Rose," I say quietly, standing next to her.

"Bella! I haven't seen you in ages! Sit down, bitch!" she orders, a pleased smile lighting up her blue eyes. "Damn, girl, you clean up good."

I laugh uncomfortably. "Alice Brandon fixed me," I tell her, rolling my eyes. "How have you been?"

"Great, except for lack of acceptable boyfriend material," she groans, sighing heavily. We laugh, and she shrugs. "But oh well. I don't want some asshole who doesn't appreciate a good car or someone under it anyway. What's going on in Bella's love life?"

I scrunch up my face as I remember Edward. "The guy I'm major crushing on is my boss's younger brother," I admit mournfully.

Rose laughs, and laughs, and continues on until every guy in a ten foot radius is staring at our table—or her breasts, whichever. "Your luck is as black as my heart," she giggles, wiping her eyes and taking a sip of the margarita in front of her. "Is he hot?"

"Yeah," I mutter, resting my head in my hands. "And I can't do anything about it because he'll likely tell his brother, who is my boss, which is just awkward and will probably get me fired."

"Hmm… you could use a fake name," she suggests.

"I already told him my name today, before I finally figured out he was related to Emmett."

Her eyebrows rise. "Not to be rude or anything, but you're insanely bad at this romancing thing."

"Thanks," I say acidly. "I kind of figured that one out for myself, actually."

"No need to get all offended," Rosalie smirks, holding up her hands as if I had stolen my father's position in the law force. Officer Swan, female: kicking ass for every insult. "I was just observing."

"Bella!"

I groan and peek through my fingers when I see Kate marching determinedly toward our table. "Gah, they've found me," I mutter quietly, and take a swig of my beer to steel myself.

"You look like you're dishing about grocery boy—tell Auntie Katie too," she wheedles, smiling evilly as she sits next to Rose. "I'm Kate, this is Bella, and you're Rosalie. Good, now talk, Bell."

Rosalie's eyebrows have gone up again, but she seems amused as she sips from her drink, eyes on Kate for just a second before turning back to me. I had kind of hoped she would get annoyed and kick Kate's ass across the club—not that I don't like Kate, but it's basically her fault I'm here and talking about Edward in the first place.

_I can't feel the way I did before, don't turn your back on me  
I won't be ignored, time won't heal this damage anymore  
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored_

"He's a grocery boy?" Rosalie asks finally.

I groan, and spill the whole story, sparing no small detail until they're both leaning toward me with eyes as big as saucers, reminding me of four year olds—if four year olds were interested in sexy grocery boys and the effect they have on women like Bella Swan.

We're all silent for a moment, and I mournfully take the last sip of my beer. Kate purses her lips and glances across the room. "Well, imagine that. My newest boyfriend is friends with your boss, who is the brother of your grocery boy, who is part of your nightly ritual via shower and store… wonder if Garrett knows Edward?"

"Don't ask," I moan. "Please."

Rosalie frowns across the room, and then her eyes widen and she looks back at me so fast her head reminds me of a stripper on a pole. "Bella! I can't believe you!"

I flinch at her shout. "What?!" I ask, sitting up straight and staring at her, aghast.

"I can't believe you," she yells, even louder this time, eyes darting to a spot over my shoulder before landing on mine again, unfocused. I wonder how much she's had to drink, annoyed by her insensitivity. _Why_ did I tell them the story again? It's not like they threatened me with death by stiletto.

"You're the one who asked for the story!" I wail, looking down at my empty bottle sadly. "I know I'm pathetic, leave me be."

Kate's eyes widen and she looks at Rosalie the same way Rose had previously looked at me. "Oh my God! Brilliant!" she whispers, and then looks at me disapprovingly. "Bella, Rose is right. You can't just ignore this feeling."

"What else am I supposed to do?" I growl at the table. "Go up to him and tell him, 'Hey, I know you're working right now, but would you mind if we went into the back room and fucked like bunnies for a few hours or so?' Somehow I don't think it would go over all too well with _my boss_. And I _like _my job."

The hair on my arms rises as something warm presses against my back, and my nose is immediately aware of exactly who is leaning over me now. "Do I _want _to know what you three are talking about?" he asks, voice silky as my panties, which should spontaneously catch on fire right about now. Shit, fuck, my life is over.

_No, hear me out now, you're gonna listen to me  
Like it or not, right now, hear me out now  
You're gonna listen to me like it or not, right now_

"Bella's dismal dating style," Rosalie groans, waving a hand at me. I glare at her, panicked and finally understanding her motives. "Whatever. I'm going to go dance and find myself a man. Wallow if you want to, Bella. Keep her company," she orders, and I don't have to see Edward's face to know he's lifting his eyebrow at her.

Kate rolls her eyes and stands with her. "I've got to get back to Garrett and make sure he's not intending to perform karaoke or something stupid like that. Good night, Bella, Edward."

Hesitantly, Edward takes the seat next to me and hands me a beer, bless his soul. "It's kind of creepy that girl knows my name. Here, you're probably underage, but you had one in front of you, so…" he says quietly, shrugging and leaning back. He won't look at me, and I feel extremely guilty and awkward.

We're quiet for a few moments as I stare at my beer, and then I sigh heavily. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Edward looks at me with confused eyes, dark enough in the limited lighting of the club that I can't even tell how green they are. "What was that about anyway?" he asks, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table in front of us.

"Erm… well… you're related to my boss," I admit quietly, groaning and dropping my head to hit the table a few times.

My forehead lands on his hand when he slides it between the table top and me, and I sigh and look up at him. "And that made you run for what reason?" he inquires, eyebrow lifting. He doesn't look hurt anymore, which is good, but he's more confused than ever.

"I… well… I mean…" I stammer at him, staring at his perfect face as if he'd suggested we rip off our clothes right now and go at it under the table. This probably isn't as bad as my wish for getting it up the aisle, though. And I kind of want to rip off our clothes and go at it, if I'm being honest. I resolve to lie from now on.

He rolls his eyes and stands up. "No, wait! Don't go!" I blurt out, jumping out of my seat. "Please."

"I wasn't going to," he says, surprised, looking down at me. "At least, not alone. Want to talk outside, where it's quieter?"

I'm hesitating—inside, there's a chance that he won't hear when I finally admit how badly I want his body, but outside it's more private and it's probably not blazing hot. He smiles at me hopefully, nodding toward the door, and I sigh and pick up my bag. "Yeah," I finally answer. "Good idea."

We've only gone three steps before I feel the heat of his hand on my lower back, guiding me with the lightest pressure. My breathing stutters, and my thoughts flash to how his hand should move around to cup my waist, the other joining on the opposite side of my body as he bends me over a table, lifts my dress, and takes me from behind. Fuck, what this boy does to me. I've _never _been so horny or kinky.

I see Rosalie dancing with none other than Emmett—his earlier date is macking on some blond against a wall, right next to—finally—Jasper and Alice. I pause to stare at them in shocked pleasure, and Edward leans forward to brush my hair away from my ear, perfect lips moving at my neck just as I had imagined so many times. "You're slightly voyeuristic," he whispers, and I shiver.

"They're my best friends and I've been waiting for them to get together for ages," I tell him, glancing behind me. He's so close I can smell him and practically taste him on my tongue. I _want _to taste him on my tongue.

Edward smirks and pushes me forward gently, until finally we're outside in the cold and I'm breathing in the cigarette-tinted air. He leads us across the street to a conveniently placed park, and we settle on a bench a few feet from the nearest light. It's behind him, shadowing his face as he turns to look at me. "So."

"Yeah," I say, avoiding the topic.

"How does working for Emmett make you suddenly terrified of me?" he asks, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at me sideways.

I open my mouth, close it, and suck my lip into my mouth as I think. "I…"

He chuckles briefly and sits up again, stretching his long arms along the back of the bench—the one behind me isn't close enough for my liking, but I'll deal with it. "You said my song was too easy earlier," he mentions out of the blue, changing the subject.

I'm grateful for the reprieve, and I know he's trying to make me more comfortable. "Do you have another for me?"

"I have three. One is another easy song. '_I can't feel the way I did before  
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored.''_"

"Faint, Linkin Park," I answer, smiling. "It's one of my favorites of theirs. The early stuff is better in their case."

"Good," he approves, and I can see half of his smile in the streetlight. The other side is shadow, and I'm forcibly reminded of my tattoo.

"And the other songs?" I ask.

"I'll tell you later," he promises. "I stocked up."

I laugh, and shake my head. "What makes you so sure I'll be around to hear them?" I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckles again, and I'm trapped in the waves of soft creamy chocolate and honey and silk and music and sex and—I interrupt myself when he turns to face me more fully, pulling one knee up on the bench between us. Unthinkingly, I mirror his position and wait, all the while wondering what would happen if I stood up and straddled his lap like a hooker.

"Just a thought," he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

A thought can be very dangerous, Mr. Cullen—if you don't know that, you don't know me very well at all.

It's quiet as we sit and think, and I know he's waiting for me to speak now, but my mind is so busy that I'm torn between remembering the monkey from Phantom of the Opera and comparing Edward to Erik the Opera Ghost.

Finally, I sigh. "I was embarrassed because I really like you and I can't do anything about that because I'm employed by your brother and things would be very very awkward if I acted the way I want to," I finally admit. Maybe the alcohol has made me brave, or it just drowned out the sensible side of me. Either way, it's out in the open now.

Edward is silent for a second, and then I can hear the smile in his voice when he talks. "How exactly do you want to act?"

I gape at him, and then realize he's teasing and hit him on the chest, glaring playfully. "Don't test me," I threaten, and he laughs at me, grabbing my hand in his.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Can I tell you how I want to act around you, even when I'm at work and it would be very inappropriate?" His voice has lowered, and the husky tone feathers across my sensitive skin as if he was dragging his long elegant fingers over me again. I shudder, and squeeze my legs together.

"Yes," I whisper, biting my lower lip.

_I can't feel the way I did before, don't turn your back on me  
I won't be ignored, time won't heal this damage anymore  
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored_

"When I first saw you, you didn't notice me—you were walking down the baking aisle where I was stocking chocolate chips, and you were biting your lip, just like you are now—that's always turned me on, and that night was no exception. You paused a few feet from me and stared at all of the chocolate chips before grabbing a bag, and then you started singing softly. I recognized the song, and I was surprised you knew it. I took another look at you and immediately felt uncomfortable in my jeans, because you were undeniably attractive and I was practically saluting you. You fit every piece of the list I've thought about wanting in the perfect woman, and I told myself I wanted to know you better."

I listen as he details his trip through the store, following behind me and berating himself the whole time until I ducked into the condom aisle. He blushes here, and I find this adorable as he continues his tale.

"You looked so lost and confused, and even though I wanted to murder the guy who you were going to use them with, I tried to help. You remember how embarrassed we both were and everything about that meeting, right?" I nod, and try to swallow through my dry throat. "Part of the reason I was so awkward is that I was fighting the urge to push you up against a shelf and kiss you until we were both unclothed and tangled in each other on the floor."

I gulp and take a slow breath, trying to calm myself.

Edward leans toward me, and I watch his face carefully. His hand moves to push my hair back out of my face, and I want so badly to latch my own around his wrist and guide it down to the part of me that wants him most right now.

"Every night, it was a pleasurable torture to see you. I really was working late those first three nights, but after that, once I figured out your schedule, I found a way every night to stay after so I could talk to you. Sometimes—" he grimaced "—I'm ashamed to admit that sometimes I'd spend some of that time in the back room imagining us together and taking care of the problem I had in hand—literally."

I let a squeak slide through clenched teeth, and he leans back, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, really, I shouldn't be telling you this. I don't want to make it awkward between—"

"No, it was the same for me, except I took care if it when I got home," I blurt out, grabbing his wrist as he starts to pull away. "Go on."

Edward is surprised—even in the limited light, I can see this and feel it. "You… I… right." He pauses to lick his lips, and his hand falls to rest on my knee, warm and deliciously tingly. I want it higher.

"When you came into the store today, I was surprised and pleased. I honestly didn't mean to spill vegetable oil all over you." We both laugh, and he goes on. "But when I took you in back, I was split between helping you out and just fucking you on the washing machine. You have no idea how sexy you are, and I just wanted to lift you onto the machine, pull down your jeans and panties, and fuck you until someone called the cops on us. I want to feel you clenching around me, I want to hear you screaming my name, I want to smell you and taste you and see you. Fuck, I just…

"I want you, Bella," he whispers, and the tone of his voice, the pure lust and desire, races over my skin, lighting the inferno that makes me sure my hand will not do the trick tonight.

"Take me," I manage to say. "Please."

His lips part in surprise, and then they're on mine, hot and needy and almost too rough, but I don't care, because this is what I want and goddamn it all to fucking hell if it isn't better than I've imagined as his fingers twist into the hair at the base of my neck, pulling me toward him until I'm practically straddling the perfect hardness I can feel even through his jeans. I moan and run my hands over his shoulders to drag them through the curls in the back of his head as our tongues slide against each other, tasting, testing, exploring.

He breaks away, panting, and resumes his attack on my neck, delicious and heady and beautiful. I'm shaking in his arms, pressing myself down on him and trying not to whimper with need. His hands move from my hair to cup my ass, helping me as I move against him, working us both up. Fuck, I want him, so badly. "Edward," I whisper breathlessly, unable to deny myself any longer, "not here. Home. Now."

We break away from each other, gasping, and he hurries to help me up. We make it all of three feet before I'm pressed up against a tree and he's grinding into me as I tremble. I push him away slightly, hazy-minded and filled with lust, but still sane enough to remember we're in public. "Home," I say again, more forcefully, and he groans and takes my hand, tugging me into a jog as we cross the park and the street to a black sleek sexy car that I immediately want to sit on as he makes me come all over him.

My lips feel delightfully bruised and plump as I climb into the passenger seat and watch him slide across the hood to get to his side faster. I'm laughing as he ducks in to kiss me immediately. "Hold on," he whispers against my mouth as his hand finds the gear shift. "I'm a fast driver."

I shiver in anticipation.

_I can't feel, I won't be ignored, time won't heal  
Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored_

***

_AN: (6,076 words) Well, that was interesting to write while my mom sat next to me watching Angels and Demons. Leave me some feedback for reference—I'm not sure I like my lemony bits, and any help or critique might help them get better so you readers can live through my characters. I think I fail at the lemony aspect, but I'm trying. Give a girl some credit, eh? And leave me music. Again, a common song, but it came on my iPod as I was starting the chapter, and so there it is. It fits my mood for the last three days. Give me new things to listen to and a citrusy review to help me improve my lemons. Also, link to outfits is on my profile page at the very bottom under all the crap._

–_hyacinth_


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